Poem a Day 2014

You were a master of: the sloppy bun,

stepping on the backs of my shoes 

as we headed back in from the yard,

reporting to me from the table just feet 

away from where I sat

the purple eyeshadow makes it look like someone punched you.

Now you are a mother

I think.

Before you came over, I made a list 

of reasons why we should be friends

and you thought it was strange 

that my house had no curtains.